


Precipice

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: An alternate take on what My Struggle IV could have been. AKA the search for William continues, but this time Mulder and Scully have an old friend on their side.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shortly before s11 aired, I'd started a word doc that was basically just a stream of consciousness about what I thought might happen (you know, back when we thought the alien virus was an actual thing we'd actually have to deal with, lol us of a year ago). Anyhow--while elements of that story have changed (i.e. no one is dying of an alien virus with obscure origin), the core of the story remains the same. There are, as of now, seven chapters in total. People are separated at the beginning, but things will come together eventually, I promise. Thanks for reading!

William’s feet pounded against the wet sidewalk, picking up speed with every step. He drew a deep breath, feeling the cold night air burn his lungs almost as much as the rain that felt like splinters against his face. In the dim light of the street lamp, he quickly turned his head, eyeing the two dark figures that were chasing him. He grabbed a trashcan, all but ripping it from the bolts that had secured it to the ground, tossing it in their direction. The move was intended as a distraction, a way to block their path, but he knew it cost him time.

He rounded the corner and picked up speed, not even caring at the moment who saw him or what they might think. A plastic bag from the corner store was still looped around one of his wrists, the handles slowly carving red welts into his skin. He’d braved the trip, had been holed up in an abandoned factory down by the docks for days, but he’d saved up enough money to rent a room for a few nights which meant a hot shower along with usage of the microwave in the lobby. Even as he ran, there was nothing that sounded quite as appealing as a hot meal, even if it was nothing more than a cup of ramen noodle soup.

The trip to the store had been uneventful, but about a block or two into the trip back to the motel, he noticed he was being followed. The men were casual enough about it that someone with less perception about such things might not have noticed. He intentionally took a wrong turn and even stopped to stare through a few shop windows just to be sure, but as soon as he picked up his pace they had as well, which led to an all out chase through several city blocks. He cut through a park, weaving in and out of the tree line. The thought occurred that he could easily vanish into the night, masquerade as a stranger in the street, but he knew somehow that wouldn’t work this time.

As he hopped the fence on the other side of the park, he briefly wondered how this had become his life. It was true that his childhood hadn’t exactly been easy, but just a few months ago he’d been living a nice enough life, sleeping in a comfortable house in well off neighborhood with parents who’d given everything they could to make his life as easy as possible. He darted into an alley, ducking behind a dumpster, and took a moment to collect himself. He’d done a good job the past few months to push his parents out of his head. The sight of their lifeless bodies sitting in pools of blood was not something he could forget. They’d been killed because of him, because of what he could do, he knew that. No amount of running or pretending to be someone else could ever make him forget it.

He closed his eyes, pressing his palms so tight against his lids that stars blurred his vision, and he thought of the other set of parents he’d been trying so hard to not remember. Not forget, he thought, so much as stay away from as long as he could. He wondered what they were doing now, if they were safe and protected away from the chaos being near him seemed to bring. Still, he thought of what the red haired woman--Dana, he now realized was her name--had said, crying over what she believed at the time to be his dead body. She loved him, had never forgotten about him, and she regretted giving him up. He hit his head against the brick wall behind him, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. Later on at the hospital she referred to him as Jackson, and so had the man he now knew to be his father. They’d called out to him, wanting to make sure he was safe, and rather than running to whatever help they might have been able to provide, he disguised himself and ran.

A gust of wind blew down the alley, cutting through the thin denim jacket he wore, and despite his meager attempt at shelter, he shivered. His stomach growled, the sound seemingly magnified in the sudden silence of the alley. He bit into a bag of M&Ms, dumping half of the candy in his mouth at once, knowing it wasn’t exactly the dinner he’d hoped for, but also knowing there was no way he could return to the motel now. The men who’d been tracking him likely already knew where he’d been hiding and even if they didn’t, they’d probably find a way to track him there. He ate the rest of the M&Ms, washing them down with half a can of the energy drink he purchased, knowing he had to get moving soon but also unsure of where to go.

The motel was out of the question, as was the factory he’d stayed at previously. William sighed, trying to remain calm. He tried the breathing exercises his therapist had suggested ages ago, wondering what she’d think if she knew not everything he’d been telling her about was in his head. There was only one choice that made sense, and he hoped nobody would end up regretting it. Dana had said they wanted to make sure he was okay, had all but pleaded to see him. While it wasn’t the best of circumstances, he quickly darted out of the alley, figuring now was as good a time as any. They were agents, so even if they didn’t deserve any of this, he figured they’d know a thing or two about keeping him safe.

He turned his head left and right, checking to make sure the coast was clear. It occurred to him that he didn’t exactly know where they lived, at least in any technical terms. He’d seen the house, the couch with the blanket draped across the top, and even the little dog that yipped at Mulder but cuddled as close to Dana as it could, but those images only came when he tried hard enough to see them. The faintest of smiles crossed his face, thinking he’d contact her as soon as he knew it was safe, and then he’d be able to see the house in person. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, but before he could turn to face his attacker, he felt an arm snake around his waist, fully cementing him in place.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the deep voice sounded, just as he’d tried kicking and pulling himself free.

“You won’t hurt me,” William replied, sounding far more brave than he felt. He felt the cold metal of what he knew to be a gun digging into his back, and he laughed. His insides bubbled with anxiety, but if he had any hopes of breaking free let alone surviving, he knew he had to bluff as long as he could. “That won’t work on me.”

“It would incapacitate you for a while though, wouldn’t it?” the man said, pulling William back into the darkness of the alley as a car passed by.

William wanted to scream, wanted to conjure the ghouli monster and destroy the man holding him, but before he could do so, the solid pressure of the gun was replaced by the sharp pain of a needle pricking his neck. “No,” he said, thrashing about. His breathing grew labored, his limbs became heavy, and within seconds, whatever fight he had left in him slowly began to ebb away. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not me, kid,” the man replied, half carrying and half pushing him out onto the sidewalk as another car slowly pulled against the curb. “Personally, I don’t fully understand what’s so special about you. But I was told to come get you, and I’m a man who does as he’s told.”

Another man emerged from the car and William watched, fighting back the fatigue he felt seeping into him, as the man opened the passenger side back door, beckoning them closer. “I told you not to hurt him. We were only supposed to use that in the event that he put up a fight.”

“Yeah, well, did you really expect him not to?” the man holding William said. He pushed him closer, even as William fought with whatever strength he had left.

“Considering who his father is, I guess that’s really not much of a surprise. It’s crazy,” the driver said, gripping William’s shoulder to still his actions. “You may not know him, but you do look a lot like him.”

“Are you going to keep waxing poetic, or are you going to help me get him into the car?”

The driver sighed, opening the back door further, and bracing for the way William kicked out as he leaned down to pick up his legs. “Get some rest,” he said as they shoved him in the back seat. “We’ll be there soon.”

William tried kicking out, tried channeling whatever monster face he could think of, but it was like something had dulled his senses somehow, making everything around him soft and muffled. He knew he’d been drugged, but he didn’t know with what. The last thing he saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was the sight of the driver’s eyes fixing him with a look of concern as he shut the car door.

The next thing he remembered was a gray ceiling looming above him. He sat up with a start, regretting his fast movements when his head started pounding. His mouth felt dry, coated in fuzz, and his throat was scratchy. When he blinked and adjusted his eyes to the dim lighting of the room, he saw he was sitting on a bed, albeit not a well made one. There was a dresser against one wall and a closet which was firmly closed. There was a window, but before he even got close, he knew there was no hope of escaping through it. The opening was far too small, and judging by the looks of it the glass was far too thick. The only hope he had was to get through the door, which he realized as he got closer was locked from the outside. The room was exactly that--more a room than a cell--but as he sat back down on the bed that creaked under his weight, William wondered not for the first time what he was doing there.

The door opened, slowly, and William watched as a small dark haired woman stepped inside. A tall man followed suit, carrying a tray of food, and it wasn’t until then that William realized he was hungry. He hadn’t had much, not counting the candy and the drink he’d guzzled the night before, although as the thought occurred to him, he realized he didn’t know how much time had passed.

“Put the tray on the nightstand, dear. He can eat when we’re done,” the woman said, clasping her hands in front of her. She tilted her head to the side, studying him curiously. “We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, William. Or, as I understand it, you prefer to be called Jackson now? The name isn’t important, although I do genuinely want to make sure you’re comfortable. We’re all friends here, you see, and that means I want you to feel welcome.”

“If I’m so welcome, why did you have to have your men chase me and drug me?” William asked, pulling his knees to his chest. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to get as far away from her and the man who stood guard near the door as he could. “What do you want with me?”

The woman shook head head, holding a hand to her chest as if she’d been offended. “It’s not what we want with you, darling, but what we want for you. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot,” she said, holding out a hand and intending for him to shake it. When he didn’t make a move towards her, she narrowed her eyes and pulled her hand away. “You don’t know me yet, so I suppose that means you wouldn’t be comfortable. I understand. My name is Erica Price. Myself, along with the individuals I work with, have been waiting a very long time to meet you.”

“Why?” he asked, regretting it the second the word left his mouth. As much as he wanted answers, he doubted he’d get any real ones from her.

“You know by now how special you are. I know you do. But the reality is that you’ve been wasting your potential--”

“Did you really have me kidnapped just to give me some speech about how special I am? You’re talking to someone who spent parts of his childhood locked inside a lab like a rat while my parents stood outside, letting the doctors do whatever they wanted in hopes they’d learn what was wrong with me. I get it. I’m a freak,” William replied, the words bitter on his tongue. He didn’t mean it, not exactly. He’d grown past thinking he was a freak, but he had to admit he was surprised at the adamant way Erica shook her head.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re wasting your time, manipulating people into hurting themselves and scaring your friends, when all the while you could be putting your powers to good use,” she replied. She tapped her manicured fingernails against the amulet around her neck and shook her head, surveying him.

Fear pooled in his gut, and he couldn’t help wondering just what she and the others knew about what he was capable of. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, all the while breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He felt nauseous, weak from having eaten little, and he darted his gaze to the sandwich that sat a few feet away on the nightstand.

Erica turned to the man standing guard and then she gestured to the tv built into the wall. She waited as the man tapped the screen a few times, bringing up a video player. “I’d like to show you something that might make you realize how serious I am, and how much I and the others intend on helping you. We’ve been watching you for a long time, boy, even if you never realized it.”

William watched in horror as he saw his own face appear on screen. He was a few years younger, maybe fourteen or fifteen, when someone had honked as he crossed the road on his bike. The man had made him angry, although William now realized it was himself who’d been in the wrong. At the time he’d been upset, not just at the man but at his parents for saying they had to move, and with little regard for the driver of the car let alone the others at the intersection, he fixed his gaze and caused the cars to crash. The screen went black for a second before showing him again, standing firmly in place but trembling just slightly. A girl screamed--not Sarah or Bri, he’d scared them much later--and the frame was shaky, but he knew that despite the camera capturing him, what she was seeing was a monster. He’d made her see the ghouli, and it had left her terrified. The girl ran, but he’d caused claw marks in the wall no human should’ve been able to make.

The screen behind Erica went blank and she nodded as the guard pressed pause. “That’s enough for now, thank you,” she said, turning her attention back to William. “There are older videos, ones from when you were younger. We had to wait until the time was right. Until you were ready for the next phase. But the time is now, so we’ll need you to be ready.”

William eyed the door, still open behind her, and he knew that despite the guard standing there he could probably make a dash down the hall. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew he had to try. He tightened his muscles, trying to conjure the image of the ghouli, but the same dulling of his senses pressed in, even harder than before.

Erica smiled, shaking her head sadly as she stepped closer to him. “Your cheap parlor tricks won’t work on me, darling. Not when you have magnetite coursing through your bloodstream.”

Magnetite. He felt like he’d heard that word before, maybe when he was younger, but he still didn’t know what it meant. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t think I’d just waltz in here if there was a chance you could make my head explode now, do you? The sedative I had them give you was laced with magnetite. It’s not enough to kill you, but it’s enough to effectively block your abilities, at least for a time,” she said, studying him. “You should eat. You need to keep your strength up.”

Again, William stared at the sandwich and what appeared to be soup sitting on the tray, along with a bottle of water that practically made him ache with thirst. Still, he wasn’t about to dive into what they’d brought, at least not while they were watching his every move. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re probably still tired from the sedative,” she said, patting his cheek with her paper dry hand. She pulled away, assessing him with an almost fascinated glare. “If you try to run, we will catch you. You will be drugged again, and the dose will be higher. But I want you to understand that I really, truly, don’t want to do that. I want you to trust me, Jackson, and when you’re ready, I want you to join us. There are others like you, you know, but you’re the first. You’re special,” she said, turning towards the door. She stopped in the doorway, nodding to the guard. “I’ll be in my office. Call me if there’s any trouble. And contact Mr.Y. Tell him the plan is set in motion.”

The door closed behind them and William listened as the locks slid into place. He wasn’t a prisoner, she’d hinted at as much, but they still kept him secure. She said there were others like him, but he wasn’t sure if he believed her enough to try and comprehend what that meant. He eyed the food tray as if it were a bomb ready to explode, but if he was being honest, he was hungry enough to take the risk. He ate the sandwich in a few quick bites but disregarded the soup, finding it too salty. He drank a few sips from the water bottle, afraid of being greedy. Erica had said they wanted to help him, but that didn’t mean he’d be getting anything else to drink anytime soon.

He settled onto the mattress, stretching his legs out before him. The air was heavy, weighted down, although he supposed he was still suffering from the sedative. He hadn’t been able to transform, to make them see him for the beast he sometimes thought himself to be, but maybe some of his other abilities hadn’t been dulled entirely. He closed his eyes, settling his hands against his stomach, trying to find that delicate place between sleep and awake. He pictured the woman--the woman with the red hair, Dana, his mother--and he imagined the room that was around him. He didn’t know if it would work, but as he concentrated as hard as he could, he knew he had to try.


	2. Chapter 2

“Popcorn?” Mulder asked, handing Scully the bowl as he grabbed the remote and settled into the couch. “And before you ask, yes, I did put butter on it. But not a lot. Compromise,” he said, smiling as he popped a kernel into his mouth.

Scully followed suit, licking the salt from her fingers as she propped her feet up on the coffee table. The week had left her feeling exhausted, and while she knew full well she and Mulder weren’t as young as they used to be, she had to admit there was something about working cases with him again that left her feeling energized. It was why she’d suggested they settle into a movie night rather than having a quick dinner and starting on laundry, as they sometimes did after coming home from working a case. “Mulder, no,” she said, watching as he scrolled through the list of options, highlighting one they’d seen several times already.

Since moving back in she’d shared with him the beauty of having Netflix, which essentially meant he had a wealth of movies and documentaries at his fingertips, but what it amounted to was him wanting to watch the same things over and over again. “I’ve gotten good at skipping to my favorite parts, Scully. Come on, I’ll show you,” he said, casting her a sideways glance. Sensing her disapproval, he held the remote in her direction. “Or you can pick. But nothing about witches or fire, or anything scary. I think I’ve had enough of that for a while. I do admit though, you admitting it was spontaneous human combustion was kind of hot.”

She smirked, shaking her head as she considered their options. “What about--” she stopped, hearing the tell tale beep of their security system telling them someone was at the gate seeking entrance. The system was new, a result of their home being invaded a few weeks ago. It was a decision born of the need to be alerted in the event someone tried it again. They were safe, for now, but they still wanted to be prepared. “Did you invite someone over?”

“Who would I invite?” Mulder asked, shoving himself off the couch. He parted the curtains in hopes of getting a better view, but it was too dark to make out much aside from the fact there was a car out front. “Maybe it’s Skinner, even though we told him we’d have the reports on his desk tomorrow morning.”

“He has the access code, Mulder,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder as she stepped up behind him. “If he was here, he’d be pulling into the driveway already.”

Mulder pressed a button on the panel next to the door, motioning for Scully to grab her gun from the table where she kept it hidden. “Can I help you?”

“Agent Mulder. Are you and Agent Scully alone? It’s important that I speak with the both of you.”

Mulder glanced back, eyeing Scully cautiously. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. “I suppose that depends on who you are and what you want. Care to shine a light on any of that?”  


“I can assure you I mean no harm to either of you. My only hope is to help you, but we don’t have much time. If you let me in, I can explain in person. I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t think it pertinent, so please--”

“Yeah, I got that, but--” Mulder stopped, halted by Scully gripping his hand, urging him to let her step in.

“What do you want with us?” Scully asked, an uneasy feeling stirring in her gut. The voice had been familiar to her as well, though she was afraid to admit her suspicions until she was proven right.

“I have information, Agent Scully, that you and Mulder might find useful. It’s regarding someone we both knew--all three of us did--from long ago. I helped you then, Dana, and I want to help you now.”

“Is that,” Mulder said, removing his finger from the intercom button, furrowing his brow as who the voice belonged to clicked for him. “Your visions, you said that she--”

“I know,” Scully replied, the fear she felt before amping up even as she tried desperately to remain collected. “If she’s here, that means that it’s begun. The things I saw in my visions, Mulder. If they’re real and she can help us, then we should at least listen to what she has to say.”

Mulder moved from the door to the window, again peeking out the curtains, and in the dim light he could just make out the image of a woman standing alone outside her car, staring back at him through the darkness. “Yes, but Scully, if your visions are correct, that means she sided with the cancer man, which means she can’t be trusted. She could be coming here on his orders.”

Scully took several steps back, shaking her head in disbelief. They’d been through so much in the past few months, from finding William only to lose him again, but the possibility of the visions coming to fruition could only mean one thing. “If Monica is here, it means she has information for me. For us, Mulder. About William. About all of it. We owe it to her to at least listen. And if she is on his side, she’ll pay for what she’s done,” she said, pressing the button for the intercom. “Come in,” she said, quickly typing the access code in before opening the door, watching as Reyes got back into her car and slowly pulled up the drive.

“Agent Scully, Agent Mulder,” she said, walking up the steps to greet them. She shook droplets of rain from her sleeves, studying their worried glances in the glow of the porch light. She pulled a file folder from her coat, her hand trembling slightly as she held it in their direction. “I wish I were here under better circumstances. Can we go inside and talk? I think you’ll want to see what’s in this file.”

Mulder agreed, cautious, holding the door for both women to walk by. He bolted it behind him, watching as Scully kept one hand on the gun she secured in her holster as she lead Reyes to the kitchen table.

“Okay, tell us why you’re here,” Scully said, crossing her arms. It hurt to stand so close to a woman she once considered a friend but now wasn’t sure she could trust, but if the images she’d seen through the visions were correct at all, Reyes had sided with the man she and Mulder hated most in the world, so she had good reason to be suspicious. “Actually, start with why it is you think we can trust whatever it is you have to say. When Mulder and I returned to the bureau several years ago, we looked you and Agent Doggett up. I had hopes of reconnecting, only to learn that while John stayed on, you requested a transfer a year or so later, but then all bureau records of you vanished. Why is that?”

Reyes sighed, rubbing at worry lines that had been on her face for far too long. “I can assure you, Dana, that nothing I’ve said or done has been to hurt you or anyone else. If you can hear me out--”

“You sided with that cigarette smoking son of a bitch, Monica. How can you ever expect us to believe anything you have to say?” Mulder interjected, sidling up next to Scully on the opposite side of the table as Reyes.

“So you’ve seen it, haven’t you? How everything begins?” Reyes replied, shaking her head as she locked eyes with Scully. “Dana, I know you’ve seen it. Your visions of the future aren’t entirely false. The threat of a virus that could decimate the human population is very real and tangible. And yes, I have been with him, but I have my reasons for the choices I’ve made. I don’t entirely expect you to understand them, but there’s nothing I can do to make them go away.”

Scully gripped the chair in front of her so hard her knuckles turned white. She felt Mulder’s hand rest atop hers, a feeble attempt at soothing her fears that warmed her heart but did little to soothe the anxiety that was hitting her like a tidal wave. She remembered all too well the times Reyes had been there for her, from helping her give birth to William to the day she made the difficult decision to give him up, to helping aid she and Mulder in their escape. While the fact she didn’t have many friends had never bothered her, even growing up, she hated thinking one of the few people she genuinely trusted could’ve betrayed her as much as the visions led her to believe. “Just tell me why, Monica. Why, after knowing everything he’s done and everything he’s capable of, would you possibly consider siding with someone so horrible?”

“I’m sided with him now no more than I was then,” Reyes replied, setting the file she was holding on the table. She pulled out a chair and gestured for them to do the same. “We don’t have much time. Can we please sit so I can explain why I’ve come all this way?”

Reluctantly, Scully sat down and watched as Mulder followed suit. “We’re sitting. Talk.”

“You were correct when you said I requested a transfer. After the two of you left, Director Kersh took it upon himself to shut down the X-Files department again, more permanently this time. Agent Doggett and I did what we could, trying to keep the work alive outside of the office, but when I was approached by someone associated with Spender, I could no longer uphold my end of the bargain,” Reyes said, weighing each word carefully, slowly tapping a finger against the file folder. “When you left, what remained of the Syndicate was in shambles, a fact you’re likely aware of. Once he was found, alive, he was taken to a secure facility for recovery. He underwent massive amounts of surgeries, facial reconstruction, not to mention various therapies to get him back in working order.”

“Are we supposed to feel bad for him? I don’t,” Mulder chimed in, rubbing a tired hand across his face. “What does this have to do with whatever the hell is in that file? What does it have to do with why you’re here?”

Reyes sighed. “Agent Mulder, you’ve more than earned the right to be suspicious, especially in light of everything Spender has put the two of you through,” she replied before again leveling her gaze at Scully. “The virus you saw in your visions, Agent Scully? He was planning it, even then. His goal was to decimate half of the world’s population, if not more. There have been trials, small ones, but none on so grand a scale as what he intends to do next. When he summoned me, he said it was because he valued what I had to say. He promised me a seat at the table once all the dust settles. He said there was a cure to the virus, a way to prevent its effect. If I helped him, he said I’d be provided with the antidote.”

“And you believed him?” Scully cried, the words coming out on the end of a sob.

“Is it so wrong of me to want to live? To have a life? But no, Dana, that wasn’t why I agreed to work with him,” Reyes replied, hanging her head to stare at the table.

Mulder waited, listening to the ticking of the kitchen clock, and cleared his throat to speak. “He had leverage.”

Reluctantly, Reyes nodded. She opened the file, showing them the first of several photographs of a dark haired boy they knew to be William. “He’s been watching him, studying him, for his whole life. He believes that William holds the key, the immunity that will save everyone he deems valuable. When he showed me the first images, I couldn’t believe it. Biologically, William is his grandson. I couldn’t understand why he’d allow him to be subjected to treatments and tests, whether he knew him or not,” she said, carding through a few pictures. “When he was five, William’s adoptive parents took him to a research facility to try and figure out the cause of his actions. Inexplicably, he’d gotten angry at a classmate who wouldn’t share, and the windows of the classroom shattered. Official reports say something about a fatal flaw in the design in addition to temperature, but the teacher went on record stating she saw him do it. It’s impossible, I know, but--”

“He’s been watching him, and you never once thought to tell us? It never occurred to you to try and get help? All because he offered you an antidote you aren’t even sure exists?” Scully cried, ignoring the way Mulder gripped her knee in an attempt at keeping her calm. “You knew, and you stood by and did nothing? Why?”

Reyes shook her head, defiant. “Not nothing, Agent Scully. I watched. I waited. I reported what little information Spender trusted me with over the years, knowing that one day that trust would develop, and I’d be given a greater responsibility. William was never in danger. If he were, I’d have done everything within my power to put a stop to it. You may not believe me, but what I’m telling you is the truth.”

Mulder shifted his gaze from Reyes to Scully and back again, having a suspicion about where the woman was going, but wanting to give her a push to come out with it. “You’re saying that all this time you’ve been a double agent?” he asked, waiting for her nod to continue. “The fact that you’re coming forward now, the fact that you’re risking your cover? It means that something is happening now, doesn’t it?”

Reyes slid the folder across the table to Scully, flipping past a few more photographs to find a copy of a lab result. “You’re a doctor. What does that say?”

Scully scanned the report, carefully tracing along the lines with her fingertip, furrowing her brow as reality dawned on her. “Spender is dying. He has cancer, perhaps an advanced stage from what this report suggests. Monica…” she trailed off, feeling like the wind had been knocked from her lungs. She needed to ask the question, even though she feared the answer. “What does he want with our son?”

“As I said, the virus is real. But it’s not developed enough yet to warrant a full scale dispersal. Still, he believes that William can cure him. He sent agents to capture him several months ago, but as you well know, their mission failed,” Reyes replied, offering a look she hoped conveyed the sympathy she genuinely felt for the other woman. “The Van De Kamps were killed and William, now going by Jackson, took off. Spender hasn’t been able to get a beat on him ever since. Until now.”

“So you’re telling us the smoking man has our son?” Mulder asked, anger and frustration coming off him in waves. “Where is he?”

“As I said, the Syndicate was in shambles. Spender represented one school of thought: that the planet was overpopulated and needed a culling, leaving only those he deemed worthy to survive. He believed William and others like him held the cure, born to human parents who’d been abducted and experimented on by the alien race. You have alien DNA inside of you, Agent Scully, as a result of your abduction. You passed that on to your son. Spender believes that human DNA laced with the alien technology holds the key to saving not just himself, but the planet as we know it.”

The information Reyes was throwing at them was enough to make Scully feel faint, dizzy with the weight of the emotions the conversation was dredging up. Giving William up for adoption was the hardest thing she’d ever done, second now to seeing how his life hand ended up. She reached for Mulder’s hand and laced their fingers together, and clung to her cross with her other hand, holding tight to it like a talisman. “What does that have to do with William? Do you know where he is?”

“That’s where the other side of what remained of the Syndicate comes in--”

“Those people I met a while back, Erica Price, I think her name was? And the other guy. They have something to do with this, don’t they?” Mulder asked. “What do they want with our son, Agent Reyes?”

Reyes reached across the table and flipped the report over, revealing another, albeit grainy photograph. “Several hours ago, a traffic camera captured this image. There’s security footage from a store further down the road as well, but all indications are that the car is headed north.”

Tears blurred Scully’s vision as she traced the grainy image of William’s face, helplessly staring out the back window of the car, and she bit her lip to try and remain composed.

“We’ve been tracking their movement for months, and I have a good idea of the area they’re headed. There’s a compound in Maine, and they have a few hours head start, but we could leave now and not be too far behind,” Reyes said, initially reaching her hand out to comfort Scully, but quickly drawing it back, sensing that her help would not yet be welcome in that regard. “Spender wants William for what’s inside him, but what Erica Price and her team want from him and others who might be like him is what they can do. They want William for what he’s capable of. Your son was a miracle, Dana. A miracle I was blessed to witness. I’m sorry that this is how things turned out, but I want to help now, as best I can.”

“You’re risking your own life and your cover by coming to us. He could’ve potentially tracked you here. You realize that, don’t you?” Mulder asked, watching as Reyes nodded in reply. He knew what a help she had been to Scully while he was gone, and he realized with a pang of regret that she’d likely held his son more times than he had. “You’re sure they’re headed to Maine? That’s at least a ten hour drive, in good traffic. We’d need to start packing now.”

“It’s the safest bet. And from there, it’d be a quick jump over the border. I’m sure the compound is guarded, though I personally have never been. But if we alert Skinner, if we get help, then we stand a fighting chance,” Reyes replied. She and Mulder seemed sure that this was the best option, but she knew Scully’s vote on the matter held just as much if not more weight, especially if William’s fate were at stake. “I know I’ve wasted a lot of time over the years, and it may not seem like it now, but Dana, I am on your side. If I go back now, he’ll know, so either I go with the two of you, or I’m done for. Understand?”

Scully stared down at the photograph of William, focusing on him as hard as she could. She didn’t truly understand how their strange connection worked, but she wanted to see if there was any way she could reach him, any way she could sense the level of danger he was currently in. She closed her eyes, breathing in deep, and tried to tell him she was on her way. A few seconds ticked by with no response, so she had no way of knowing if he got her message or not. Still, when she opened her eyes, she knew they were out of time to waste. “Mulder, we need to get upstairs, and we need to pack a bag. We need to go find our son.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next time William awoke, he had the keen sense he was being watched. He sat up on the stiff mattress, tilting his head from one side to the other, trying to stretch out the dull ache that had been there for longer than he cared to admit. He shifted his gaze to the door, squinting his eyes as if he could see through it, but while he couldn’t envision whatever was on the other side, he got the impression no one was standing there. Despite that, the feeling of someone studying him remained. Reaching for the water bottle on the nightstand, he slowly took several large gulps, and searched for a clock to try and get a sense of the time. There was light coming from the window, but that didn’t give him a clue as to what the hour might be.

It was when he found the clock that he realized where the sense of being monitored was coming from. Embedded in the clock’s face was a camera. He felt the electrical pulse, buzzing and filling the room with a subtle energy. The idea that they’d been watching him, studying him, suddenly made him feel caged, desperate to escape. They didn’t want him dead, if that were the case they’d have done so already, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stick around for whatever might come next.

Darting to a sink in the corner, William turned the faucet on and splashed his face, delighting for a moment in the cool sensation of the water hitting his skin. He used a towel sitting on the edge of the sink to wipe the dirt and grit from him, and he studied his reflection in the cracked mirror. He drew a deep breath in, trying to quell the headache he felt slowly coming on, and while he was still tired from the sedative, he knew now was not the time to sleep. Closing his eyes, he tried getting a sense of his bearings, when suddenly there was a pop, a subtle release of pressure that signaled he was alone. The camera was still on, still giving them eyes on him, but it’s stare was vacant.

He didn’t know who was monitoring the footage, didn’t know what they were hoping to see, but they had to have walked away from their post. While he couldn’t see much more than the pale off white of the hallway, he could tell it was empty, but he knew he didn’t have much time. Inwardly, he cursed the magnetite (at least that’s what he thought the lady had called it) that blocked him from seeing much farther.

Approaching the door with a sense of caution, he was only mildly surprised to find it unlocked, thinking he’d certainly recalled the sound of them locking it before. Still, he crept out into the hall, darting his head from side to side as he debated which way to turn. A glance out the window had told him he was on the second floor, or at least high enough up that he’d have to go downstairs in hopes of escape, so he knew he’d have to find a way to get down.

Not for the first time, he tried conjuring an image of Scully, imagining her red hair and that pensive look in her blue eyes, and he wished like anything that he could see her. She deserved to be safe, deserved to be far away from whatever this place was, but he also got the impression that if anyone had a shot of helping him, it was her. And, he thought, so did his father. If he ever managed to escape, he planned on trying to find them. He had a couple questions for them both, and he imagined they had some for him, too.

He rounded a corner, testing a few doorknobs along the way, only to find them securely locked. As he walked, the same keen sense of being followed remained, but he continued, eager to find a way to escape. He knew the woman had told him he’d be punished, he’d be injected again or whatever else they deemed necessary, but he’d rather risk that than be boxed up waiting for their next move.

As he rounded another corner, he spotted a large window, only as he got closer, he realized it wasn’t offering a view of the grounds. He approached the glass, carefully pressing his palm to the smooth surface, and stared in curiosity at what he saw. Inside, a girl who couldn’t have been much younger than him lay carefully in a hospital bed. Her eyes were closed, her hair fanned out against the pillow, and she appeared to be asleep. It wasn’t any of that that made him keep looking, but the straps he saw that kept her secured to the bed, along with bandages that were wrapped around both arms. He’d been so caught up in studying her and wondering what happened that he hadn’t heard the sounds of someone approaching behind him.

“She’s like you, you know. But not exactly. You have a penchant for making people see things, for causing things to happen. Her particular gift involves fire.”

William removed his hand from the window, balling it up into a fist at his side as his pulse quickened. He turned to see a portly man with graying blonde hair at his side, and only then did the thought occur that perhaps they’d unlocked the door for a reason. They wanted him to see this, he thought, but he didn’t understand why. “Why would she set herself on fire? That doesn’t make any sense.”

The man shook his head, laughing slightly. “You could say she’s a bit new to her gift, took more time to wake up to it. She’s special like you, but it’s different. When she gets angry, the fire consumes her, gets too hot too fast. We were almost too late in putting it out this time.”

William watched as a look of regret crossed the older man’s face, but he wasn’t buying the act of sympathy. “Why are we here?”

“Take a walk with me,” the man said, turning to walk down the hall.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” William replied, remaining stock still. “You guys kidnap me, poison me with...I don’t even know what, and you keep me caged like some kind of science experiment. And you expect me to just follow you? Who are you people?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter, but you can refer to me as Mr. Y. Myself, along with Erica Price, the woman you met last night, represent an organization that is willing to give you a unique opportunity,” Mr. Y said, brandishing a syringe from his pocket. “I don’t want to use this, but rest assured that I will if I have to. Now, follow me.”

There was a threat in his words, and as much as William hated the idea of following him he hated the idea of being drugged again even more, so he cast another glance at the bandaged girl and he followed Mr. Y down the hall. A few feet away was another window, and inside was another person, this one looking slightly younger than the last. He was in a hospital bed just the girl had been, only his leg was in a cast with a tether securing it to ensure his foot remained elevated.

“This young man can jump, can push himself along with others if he pleases, but recently he took things a bit too far,” Mr. Y said, tapping a finger against the glass. “We have a waterfall not far from here, and he took it upon himself to jump. He thought he could escape, but as you can see, he failed.”

“If the point in you showing me all this is to make me realize doing the weird things I can do will hurt people including myself, I already know,” William said, thinking back to the incident not too long ago, when he’d selfishly pitted Sarah and Bri against each other. He hated himself for it, thinking it a joke at the time, but now realizing how wrong he’d been.

Mr. Y remained silent for a few moments, keeping one hand firmly around the syringe in one pocket while pulling a pocket watch from the other, regarding it for a second before putting it away. “That’s not our point at all, boy. You’re special, by now I’m sure you realize that. And there are others who also have unique abilities. Abilities that can save people, help them against harm we’ll soon face.”

William followed him further down the hall, stopping at yet another window. The little boy inside couldn’t have been older than ten, but he wasn’t injured--at least outwardly so, William thought--like the others. While there was a bed in his room, he was sitting at a nearby table instead. On it were a set curved metallic blocks. William watched as the boy sat with his hands resting on the table, staring intently at the blocks, shifting his head just so as several of the pieces snapped together. “He can move things with his mind,” William said, hazarding an obvious guess at the boy’s ability.

“He’s our newest recruit,” Mr. Y said, watching as the boy finished piecing together the puzzle, only to dismantle it and begin again once more. “His parents were more reluctant than the others, but after an incident with several students at his school playground, his parents made the safe choice in allowing him to come here. We can protect him, help him hone his abilities, until he’s ready to use them safely.”

William watched the boy piecing the blocks together, watching as he knit his brow together in concentration, clearly invested in his task. He wasn’t hurt, William realized, but he was still trapped here all the same. “Why are we here? What is it you want us to do? I’m not going to fight for you, or for--”

“You’ll learn in time just how special you are. How important you and your gift are to the cause. What you can do is valuable, Jackson. It’s more than just some cheap party trick, and it can help us fight when we’re invaded. And, when the time is right, you’ll be among the chosen to defend our new home,” Mr. Y replied, carefully weighing each word. He watched as a conflicted expression crossed the younger man’s face, and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re confused now, I can understand that. Your parents didn’t have the choice in sending you here, but--”

“That’s because you killed them,” William interjected, jumping out from under his touch. His ears burned, having heard the name his parents had taken to calling him. No one had called him that since they’d died, and it sounded so strange coming from his lips. “They sent me to a place like this once, when I was a kid. They let doctors poke and prod me, do tests. They wanted to know what was wrong with me, but they never quite got the answers they were looking for. So if you wanna treat me like some freak, go ahead. But just know it’s not gonna work. You can stick me with that needle, subject me to tests, I don’t care,” he continued, surprising himself by how angry he felt. It was as if something inside of him had snapped, twisting and turning into a solid resolve to survive, regardless of the cost. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Being invaded. Our new home? I don’t know what that means, but I’m not going to fight for you.”

Mr. Y stood patiently, clasping his hands together and listening as William spoke. Inside the room behind them, the boy dismantled and reassembled the puzzle again and again, getting faster than each time before. “They were right. You are just like your father. Not your adoptive father, I mean, although I suppose you could be. I’m sorry I never had the pleasure of meeting him myself. I’m talking about Fox Mulder, of course. Your biological father.”

Hearing Mulder’s name made William dizzy, curious but afraid all the same. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“He’s your father. Together, with your mother, they created you. At your age, I don’t think I need to delve too far into the biology of it, but that is precisely what makes you different than these individuals,” Mr. Y said, gesturing down the hall they’d just traversed. “We could only hope to have created you in a lab. But we didn’t, and that’s what makes you so special.”

William’s stomach churned and his head began to spin. He watched as the boy behind the glass grinned at the block structure before him, assembled once more, choosing this time to leave it together. He watched in awe as it slowly levitated from the table, rising several feet in the air before the boy began taking it apart piece by piece. “You’re saying this kid was created in a lab? Do you even realize how crazy that sounds?”

Mr. Y shrugged before turning to walk down the remainder of the hall, not bothering to check if William was following him. “I realize it sounds crazy, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Alien technology in human form is truly remarkable, and with the right training, the likes of you and the others will become simply unstoppable.”

William watched as Mr. Y rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. He waited, but curiosity got the best of him, and he raced after him, finding himself in an area far less clinical than the one he’d just left. The walls were painted a deep red, paintings and golden candleholders adorned the walls, and he could just barely make out the muffled sound of what might have been classical music playing somewhere down below. “Hey,” he called, jogging after Mr. Y, stopping at the top of a long set of stairs. The older man was already several steps down, his hand firmly gripping the dark wood of the railing. It wasn’t until the he turned to face him that William realized he didn’t actually know what to say. Everything he’d just heard was utterly impossible, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to hear more. “Are you trying to say that we’re aliens? I might be a freak, but I’m not an alien,” he said, nearly laughing to himself at the strangeness of it all.

“No, you’re not,” Mr. Y replied, shaking his head. “The details are a bit complicated, you’ll learn them in time, but for now what you need to know is that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re completely human, and that, boy, is exactly what makes you so special,” he said, raising his hand from his pocket and snapping his fingers as he began walking down the staircase.

William opened his mouth to speak, to question the increasingly absurd things the man was suggesting, but as he did, the music swelled and several armed guards appeared at the foot of the stairs. Behind them, he saw a large wooden door and without asking, he knew they were standing near the entrance to the house. He gripped the top of the railing with one hand, wondering if he could make it past them and out the door before being stopped.

As if reading his mind, Mr. Y shook his head, smiling as he stood between the guards. “Someone will be up to retrieve you shortly, but feel free to return to your quarters for now,” he said, listening as one of the guards cocked his gun, ready to strike should the situation turn awry. When William didn’t move, he pointed up the stairs, waving his hand in the direction they’d come from. “I trust you know the way?”

William gulped, feeling as if the walls were closing in around him. The door shone behind them like a beacon, but for now any hopes of escaping where ill-fated. His limbs felt weighed down like lead and his senses were muffled. He tried to evoke the ghouli, let alone any other imposing image, but nothing would come. Mr. Y and the guards stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for his next move. “Yeah,” William replied, sighing in defeat. “I know the way,” he said, casting one last glance toward to door.

He headed back toward the room they’d kept for him, feeling the cameras pressing in on him at every turn, and the realization again dawned on him that they wanted him to escape. They wanted him to see the other kids in various forms of disarray, they wanted him to question who he was and why he’d been brought here, in hopes it would either scare him or make him trust them. He stalked into the room, all but slamming the door behind him, wishing he could transform just for a minute. He could appear as something or someone else long enough to escape, but he figured that would be all he’d need. To his surprise, the clawed hand of the ghouli glimmered in place of his, there and gone in an instant. He blinked a few times, trying to make it happen again, but to no avail. Still, the flicker of hope remained.

William had told himself after the incident involving Sarah and Bri that he wouldn’t make people see things anymore, he wouldn’t do that again, but he figured this was a good reason to break that rule. If he could just hold off and go along with their plans long enough for the drugs to wear off, if he could just stop them from drugging him once more, he could make them see the monster, and perhaps then he’d be able to break free. He tossed himself onto the bed, glaring at the clock, thinking that moment couldn’t come soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

“You two finish up. I’ll go settle our bill,” Mulder said, tucking his hand under the worn tabletop to give Scully's knee a gentle squeeze. They'd been on the road for hours and were so intent on getting to their destination in one go, but Mulder had been driving and needed to stretch his legs, so stopping for a quick bite to eat seemed like the right thing.

“Okay,” Scully replied, watching as he sidled up to the counter and waited in line for the cashier. She could feel Reyes staring at her and waiting for some kind of reaction, but at the moment she didn't feel like giving her that kind of satisfaction. A straw wrapper sat on the table next to her so she picked it up, twisting and then untwisting it from around her finger, darting her eyes up every few seconds, only to see that the line for the cashier hadn't moved. Every moment they spent sitting at the diner was a moment not on the road, which in turn meant they were delayed in their quest to find William. The thought caused unease to pool in her gut, causing her to sigh and lean forward, pressing her elbows against the table for support.

“I’m sure you have things you'd like to say to me, so if you’d like--”

“What is there to say, Agent Reyes?” Scully interjected, choosing to refer to the woman professionally rather than personally. “I’m just trying to comprehend how someone I once trusted in some of the most vulnerable moments of my life could've sided with someone so vile and corrupt, especially in light of the things he's done.”

“I wasn't--” Reyes began, quickly clearing her throat and lowering her head when she realized she needed to lower her voice. Theirs was a conversation not exactly best heard by the ordinary passersby. “I was surveilling him. There's a difference. I don't expect you to forgive the things I’ve done in an effort to not blow my cover, but please know there's a difference.”

“All this time,” Scully cried, feeling tears burn despite her stern attempt at remaining composed. “All of these years, giving your life over to him, and for what? Has it been worth it?”

Reyes’ mouth formed a thin line and she reached for her glass. She took a slow sip and then wiped the condensation on her jeans. “I can't entirely answer that until we safely rescue your son. But as of now, yes. I filed reports regularly. You would need a high level of security clearance to access them, but I bet A.D. Skinner could get a copy for you. Take a look if it's what it takes, because even if you don't believe me, I am on your side, Dana.”

Scully looked across the diner, spotting Mulder still waiting in line to pay their bill. He edged closer but a few people still remained ahead of him, and she wished the line would proceed faster. “I really did look you up when Mulder and I returned to the Bureau. I’d hoped to reconnect with old friends, you and John, but you had essentially vanished from official Bureau records. I suppose now I know why.”

Reyes smiled sadly and shrugged, knowing one conversation couldn't erase all of the years that had passed since they'd last spoke, but she was glad to at last have an opportunity to explain. “He may still have friends in high places. If they were to catch wind of what I was doing…”

“I know,” Scully replied, not needing her to finish the sentence. Several months before, she and Mulder had accused Skinner of aligning himself with the cancer man, when essentially he’d been attempting to do what Reyes had apparently been doing for years. It didn't make the sting of a friend outwardly taking sides with the enemy any easier however, and it didn't make the sadness she felt settle around her like a blanket any lighter to bear. “When I looked you up, I looked Agent Doggett up as well. He's been heading a unit that deals primarily in cases concerning missing and exploited children.”

“Giving other families like his answers,” Reyes replied, finishing the thought she knew Scully had to have been thinking. They both knew the weight Doggett had carried at the loss of his son, and while the pain of that loss would never go away, she figured helping other families was a good fit for him.

“It's funny,” Scully said, laughing softly as she circled the straw through her glass. “Back then, before Mulder and I left, I just assumed the two of you were an item. Or that if you weren't, you would grow that way in time.”

Reyes nodded, and this time it was her hoping Mulder would hurry up with the check. “We were. Sort of. Maybe approaching something like it,” she stammered, shaking her head as she cast her gaze downward. “When I was approached by Spender’s team, I knew there was no way I could ask John to join me. And there was no way to ask him to wait for me. I didn't know how long my investigations would take, and it wouldn't have been fair.”

“Maybe,” Scully admitted, although her response was somewhat reluctant. She studied the woman sitting across from her and felt the weight of all the history--separately and together--they'd shared. While she wasn't completely certain she could trust her, she had to admit that her intentions, however muddled, seemed pure. Before she could say anything else, a waitress came to clean their table, followed quickly by Mulder who seemed eager to get back on the road.

“Everything okay here?” Mulder asked, not needing to ask what the two had talked about. “The lady at the register said more storms are moving into the area. We’d better get a move on if we want to get ahead of it.”

The reality of why they were on this trip in the first place came barreling back, and it seemed as if the walls were closing in. Scully stood carefully and pointed to the bathroom door nearby. She knew as well as he did that time was of the essence, but she also knew that she needed a moment to collect herself before she came unglued. “I’ll meet you outside,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze before making her way to the bathroom. 

Her relief at finding it vacant was nearly palpable. She didn't even need to go, had only wanted a second before they dove back into looking for William, but she approached the sink with an odd sense of fascination and felt guilty for selfishly wanting a moment alone. 

She turned the faucet on, at first frustrated when the hot water didn't work, but finding herself almost delighted in the refreshment the cold water seemed to bring. It was like a balm that soothed the anxiety that had plagued her from the moment she found out Willam had been taken. William, she thought, rolling his name around her mind like a stone. It poked and prodded at mental bruises that had been there for so long she doubted they'd ever heal.

Her hands were shaking when she brought them to her cheeks, still wet from the water. She closed her eyes, drawing in several quick bursts of air through her nose. When she opened them again to look in the mirror it wasn't herself she was seeing, but William. At that she gasped, gripping the sink to keep herself upright, but when she blinked and looked back at the mirror again, he was gone.

She didn't know how she'd done it, or if it had even been real, but somehow she'd been able to reach him, or so she thought. “I’m coming, baby,” she whispered, rocking back and forth on her heels. She didn't know if he could hear her or how he'd feel about it if he did, but her need to offer comfort and encouragement to the boy who was likely scared out of his mind was downright necessary. Staring back at her reflection, she hoped more than ever that he could hear her. “I’m coming for you,” she repeated. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You okay?” Mulder asked once she reached the car. He knew it was a stupid question given the circumstances, but the look on her face was as if she’d seen a ghost. He angled his body away from Reyes, reaching out to rest a hand on Scully’s arm. While Reyes’ intentions might have been pure, he wasn’t ready to let her into certain aspects of their life. “Did you see something?” he whispered.

Scully glanced past him to where Reyes stood waiting and then turned her focus back to him. She fought the lump in her throat, wishing she could simply burrow into his side and wait for the storm to pass. But this was a battle they could not afford to sit out, and so she squared her shoulders and smiled sadly, shaking her head as she replied. “He’s alive, Mulder. And I think he’s trying to reach out. But that’s all that I know.”

Mulder nodded and quickly pulled the keys from his pocket. “We’d better get moving.”

As they got back on the highway, the city gave way to trees upon trees, and Scully lost herself in watching as they passed in a blur of various shades of green. She pulled the snowglobe she’d snagged from William’s room several months before from her pocket and cradled it in her hands, staring at it as if she could will the visions into fruition. While she wasn’t sure of how they worked, she knew she had to try. She rubbed her thumb over the cracked base, remembering how relieved she’d been once they had gotten home that she could repair it. A little super glue, a little water, and it was fractured but essentially good as new. 

Mulder flexed his hands against the wheel and glanced up at the rearview mirror at Reyes sitting in the back seat. “Do you have any idea how much farther we have to go?”

Reyes shook her head, staring intently at her hands resting in her lap. “I’ve never actually been to the compound. I’ve only heard about it through whispers and overheard conversations.”

“But you’re sure this is where they’d go?” Mulder asked, only now beginning to doubt the certainty of where they were headed. 

“I understand you don’t have much faith in me, Agent Mulder, and I suppose I deserve that, but the fact still remains that--”

“She’s right, Mulder,” Scully interjected. She closed her eyes, her breath growing shallow as she felt a headache approaching, and when she opened her eyes it wasn’t seeing the long stretch of road ahead of them, but a stark white hallway changing into something darker. The image was there one moment and gone the next, the length of a blink, but she’d seen it. More than that, she’d felt something akin to fear, and it made her sick to her stomach. “Mulder, we have to hurry.”

The fact her voice was shaking scared Mulder more than he was willing to admit. He’d agreed to drive the entire way in the event she was able to reach William, but also because he wasn’t about to trust Reyes with his car, at least not yet. Still, reality dawned on him that he not only had to be worried about his son, but Scully as well. “What’s happening?” he asked, reaching across the console for her hand.

Scully laced their hands together, finding his touch a comfort and an anchor to the present. “I don’t think he realizes he’s reaching me, at least not entirely,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand as another image appeared unbidden, this time of a door and what sounded like footsteps. “You need to give me more, something that can help us find you,” she whispered, desperation leaking into her voice.

“What did you see, Scully? Even the smallest details might help,” Mulder replied, doing his best to not betray the anxiety that was pooled up inside. He recalled the moment months before, finding her passed out on the office floor. The neurologist had said it looked as if her brain was on fire. While the visions had never returned with as much force as they had that time, he feared what would happen if they did. 

“He’s in a house, maybe, but it’s very clean. Mulder, I think he’s being chased. If they have him, why would they need to--”

“He’s trying to escape,” Mulder replied, adjusting his hand that was on the steering wheel and pressing harder on the gas pedal. “The kid fakes his death, gets kidnapped, and is now trying to escape. He really is our son, isn’t he?” he asked, half jokingly. The somber expression on Scully’s face sobered him however, and he drew her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “We’ll find him, Scully. This will all be over soon.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Reyes said, clearing her throat as she spoke up from the back seat. She pointed toward the exit they were approaching. “You’ll want to turn off the highway here. We’re close.”

“How close is close, Agent Reyes?” Mulder asked, flicking his turn signal to notify the other drivers of the lane change. 

“A few miles. There were maps of the area,” she said, all but boring a hole through the window as they turned off the exit, trying to recall the details she’d only got a glance at. “A mile east and then five miles north. There’s a copse of trees. That’s where they’ve got the building tucked away.”

Mulder nodded, but couldn’t resist the relatively harmless jab. “That’s a lot of detail to remember having never been there.”

“Mulder,” Scully replied, covering their joined hands with her free one. As confused as she might have been of the other woman’s previous motives and actions, she wanted so badly to trust in her now. She shifted in the seat and felt her gun solid against her hip as it rested in her holster. The time would come soon when she might have to use it. “Soon,” she said out loud to no one in particular, but all the while hoping William could hear her.

They parked the car along the road, far enough away to hopefully avoid detection. It wasn’t until they started carefully inching up the drive that the building came into sight. It was massive, made of brick, with large white columns lining the front porch. Mulder craned his head up, spotting two more floors above the first, and noting several vehicles parking in front. While it looked like other stately mansions within the area, the building gave off an almost cold and clinical vibe that he couldn’t exactly place. Everything appeared perfectly tidy, and even the air around it seemed still. He glanced at Scully on his right and Reyes on his left, raising a finger to his lips and holding his other hand out to indicate that they stop. He figured they’d better come up with a plan of attack, aside from bolting in and demanding to take William back. Before he could offer any suggestions however, the silence was broken by a loud crashing sound from inside. 

“He’s here,” Scully cried, pushing past Mulder’s outstretched arm. “We have to go, now.”

Mulder followed suit, trusting this time that Reyes was following close behind. He held his gun at the ready, his heart hammering inside of his chest as he wondered just what they were about to walk into. He kicked at the doorknob, pushing at the doorjamb, until settling on firing at it to force it open. It wasn’t subtle, although upon hearing another crashing sound, he all but tore the door from its hinges, wondering if their entrance would even be noticed. Once inside, sirens wailed, sounding more muffled downstairs, but growing louder the further they walked into the house. He glanced up the staircase, then at the large set of doors that would take them to the back of the house, debating how best to proceed. It was eerie in a way, that they hadn’t yet been approached, but with the sounds of the alarms going off, he knew they were walking into chaos. “You two go upstairs, I’ll check down here.”

“Wait,” Scully said, desperately clinging to him for a moment longer than strictly necessary, knowing it was a smart decision to split up but also fearing what might happen once they did. “Be safe. Be careful, Mulder.”

“When am I ever anything but careful, Scully?” he replied, laughing softly despite their circumstances. He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to her forehead and breathing deep before stepping away. “We’ll all be together soon.”

It was a promise, and it was one she intended to keep. “We will,” Scully replied, quickly disengaging the safety on her gun and pointing at the stairs, locking eyes with Reyes before she marched up. “It’s time we ended this for good.”


	5. Chapter 5

William had been convinced at first that if he just stayed upstairs and remained calm, that those keeping him might not go away, but would eventually give him the means to escape. He had tried the doorknob, but found that shortly after he’d reentered the room, someone had come along and quietly bolted it behind him. The longer he stayed, pacing so frantically he practically wore a line in the carpet, he feared that possibility might never come, and if it did that he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Each second that he was cooped up caused panic to seep in, slowly slipping through the cracks of the exterior he fought so hard to keep composed.

He took a deep breath and then another, fighting back a wave of nausea. Whatever they’d given him had managed to numb him for a time, but his senses were starting to come back stronger than before. He stalked over to the window and pressed his palm to the glass, staring at it with more force than was strictly necessary, as if doing so could cause it to shatter. While he thought he felt it shake, the sensation just as easily could have been caused by the wind that stirred outside. 

The window overlooked a clearing behind the house, beyond which stood a ring of trees. He couldn’t see anything past that, but he wanted more than anything to take off towards them, trying to break free. He backed away, stepping towards the center of the room, staring down at his hand and willing it to transform, only to see his pale skin instead.

He glared at the camera within the clock face and then at the screen embedded in the wall, wondering if they had a way to monitor him through that as well. They’d wanted him to break free, to explore just enough to see the actual children waiting down the hall. It was a fact he realized not long after seeing them and hearing the guy who referred to himself as Mr. Y talk to him about how great his abilities were. He wondered not for the first time what it was about himself that set him apart from the others. They were in rooms that seemed cold and clinical, whereas his kidnappers had placed him in something more closely resembling a bedroom, albeit absent any personal effects. 

He sat at the foot of the bed and closed his eyes, recalling the room at his parent’s house, decorated with posters and with books tossed haphazardly about. It had only been a short time since he’d had a room he could truly call his own, but already he longed for sheets that weren’t slept in by someone else and decorations on the wall that A-weren’t identical to every other in the hotel or B-designed to watch his every move. William shoved himself off the bed and ran a tired hand through his hair, getting sick of waiting. Every second that ticked by without someone coming in and saying or doing something was another he spent boiling in pent up frustration.

“What do you want from me?” he cried, staring directly at the camera, its electronic gaze regarding him with a stern curiosity. “You’re not gonna kill me, or you would’ve done that already. So what?” he asked, flicking his gaze towards the door. 

The adrenaline pumped through his veins and he was certain that he didn’t want to wait around to find out just what they wanted from him, so he stepped out of the direct view of the camera in hopes of finding something he could use as a weapon. He planned to cause a disruption and make one of the guards, if not Mr. Y or Erica Price themselves to enter the room, hoping to attack them whenever they entered. Once in the hall, he’d run as fast as he could, thinking if he could just get to the trees outside, he’d be safe. He’d figure out the rest from there. The image of the little boy he’d seen working on the puzzle and moving the pieces with his mind flitted through his memory and he shook his head to try and make it disappear, genuinely wanting to believe that once he was free he’d find a way to get help for the others. They’d need more help than he alone could give, and though he didn’t know them personally, he figured he owed them that. 

Spotting the towel he’d used earlier to dry his hands, he grabbed it, winding it tight into a coil before unwrapping it and repeating the action once more. Deciding his next move, he marched to the nightstand, quickly throwing the lamp as well as the food tray that rested on top to the ground. He gripped the mattress and tugged it away from the box spring, getting a little winded from his efforts. “What do you want?” he repeated, tucking the edge of the towel into his jeans. “Just tell me. What’s the point?”

He crossed the room, stopping at the clock, gripping it with both hands and thinking that if anything would get someone in the room fast, it’d be trying as hard as he could to rip it from the wall. 

When the door burst open less than a minute later, he realized that he was right. 

“Put your hands where I can see them,” the guard said, leveling a gun at William who quickly backed away and did as he asked.

“I just wanna talk to whoever’s in charge. You get that, don’t you? I wanna know why I’m here. Can you really blame me?” William asked. The desperation laced in his voice wasn’t an act. He held one hand up and pointed at the man’s gun with the other. “You don’t need that. You’re just doing your job. Take me to whoever’s in charge. I’ll comply. Just take me to them, that’s all I want.”

The guard hesitated, the hand he used to hold his gun wavering just slightly. “I have my orders, and they’re to keep you here until they’re ready for you downstairs.”

“You wanna keep me locked up like some kind of animal? Like a freak?” William replied, laughing bitterly. He cocked his head to one side, cracking his neck. He breathed deep, inhaling through his nose, not knowing if he could hold the image long enough, but thinking he had to try. “I’ll show you a freak,” he said, holding out a hand, flexing it as the image of clawed talons flashed in place of his fingers. It was there and gone in little over an instant, but a look at the guard told William that he’d been spooked. The distraction had been enough for him to whip the towel free from his waistband, twisting it into a coil as he surged forward, wrapping it around the man’s neck as he drove a knee into his stomach, causing the him to bowl over. Watching the man writhe in pain wasn’t exactly something he liked, but as William darted out of the room, he figured it was a small price to pay. 

He quickly dashed down the hall, the overhead lights nearly blinding him. Everything seemed sharper than normal, like the white balance had been increased, causing the objects he ran past to be distinct but slightly out of focus. 

Footsteps echoed behind him as he rounded a corner and then another. His heart hammered in his chest as he opened a door, tucking himself behind it, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to the cool wood as he listened to the sound of boots running past his hiding place. He was safe, if only for a moment, and he wanted to get his bearings straight before taking off once more. 

Suddenly, a light flickered on behind him, and it wasn’t until William turned around that he saw Erica Price sitting with her legs crossed, perfectly poised in an armchair near an open set of double doors, leading out to a balcony. 

“Exploring your new home?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. She uncrossed her legs, remaining seated, but watching his every move.

William’s eyes shifted, drinking in the room that he gathered was an office, judging by the shelves lined with books and glass figurines, along with the tall desk that sat across the room. “You were sitting in the dark,” he said, realizing as he spoke how ridiculous he sounded. He was trying to escape, and he was wasting time pointing out obvious facts.

Erica shrugged, gesturing to the open door. Outside, the sky was gray, but a decent amount of natural lighting remained. “I was resting. Waiting for our next move,” she replied, tapping her nails against the woods arms of her chair. “It’s a pity, really. I was truly hoping you’d comply more easily.”

Before he could ask what she meant by that, the door opened and two more guards barged in, guns aimed at him. William gasped, hungry for air and feeling as if blood pooled in his extremities. He’d been able to outrun one man, but now he was faced with two, along with Erica who stood watching, apparently amused and waiting for whatever might happen next. William panicked, backing himself towards the wall, knocking over a set of figurines as did so, not even caring as they shattered upon hitting the floor. 

“Just allow them to take you back to your room, Jackson. They’ll give you another dose of the sedative, stronger this time,” Erica said, casting a glare in the direction of the guards. “And when you wake, you and I will have a nice chat. What you can do is too valuable to waste, darling. It’s too precious a skill to let you--”

“No,” William exclaimed, reaching an arm out intending to barrel his way past the guards, only to push one of them clear across the room, causing him to hit a bookcase. He watched in horror as it toppled, the leather bound volumes scattering across the room in a fit of dust. Outside the room he thought he heard sirens, but he couldn’t be certain of where they were coming from, though he knew what they meant. He had to get out soon, or it was likely more guards would be coming for him. 

“This is the kind of thing I’m talking about,” Erica said, keeping her voice level. She cocked her chin at the remaining guard, clearing her throat. “Do you have another syringe on you?” she asked.

William pressed his back against the wall, trying desperately to inch closer to the door. He could try and outrun as many people as he could, but he wouldn’t be able to do so if they managed to get more of the sedative in his system. He eyed the open door, knowing they were on the second floor but also knowing he could try making the leap if the hallway proved to not be a viable option. The guard stepped into his space, gripping his arm tightly, but before he could do anything about it, they were interrupted by the sight of someone he hadn’t exactly expected to see, at least so soon. The red headed woman--Dana Scully, his mother, he thought, the word exploding in his mind like fireworks--charged into the room with a dark haired woman behind her. 

“Move away from him,” Scully said, darting her tongue out to moisten chapped lips. She and Reyes had to search the majority of the second floor to find him, but her heart beat fast upon locking eyes with the son she’d given up so long ago. There was a panic in his look that she recognized, a trapped sensation she unfortunately knew all too well, and she’d was willing to give anything to make him never feel that way again. She fired her gun at the guard, landing a shot in his leg, and leveled it at Erica Price next. She glanced quickly at Reyes and then at William, recalling how she’d trusted her with her son years ago and how she needed to do the same once more. “Jackson,” she said, fighting the tiny stab of pain she felt at referring to him by that name, but also knowing that if she was to earn his trust, she had to make him feel comfortable. “This is Monica. You can trust her,” she said, nodding silently at the other woman. She didn’t exactly like what she’d done, but she could at least sympathize somewhat with why she’d done it. “Go downstairs. She’ll help you until I’m done here.”

Erica stood, smiling more triumphantly than was strictly appropriate for the occasion, and crossed her arms. “But Agent Scully, I do believe that you’re already done here,” she said, stepping an inch closer. She looked at the doorway behind them, silently wondering what was taking any of the other guards so long. “You’re really willing to let this precious boy squander the gift he’s been given? You’d be willing to let him sit at home, masquerading as normal? That’s not a life for someone as special as--”

William charged forward, sick of the empty words and vague idealism that she was spinning, intending to pin her to the wall so Scully could get a clean shot, but as he pushed forward, the air around him did as well, causing Erica to surge backward. He watched in an odd blend of horror and fascination as she was propelled onto the balcony, her body hitting the railing with enough force for it to shatter. By the time he approached the edge, she was laying on the ground below, her limbs splayed out in all directions with a blank expression on her face. “I…” he said, his mouth growing dry as he felt himself begin to shake. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Scully replied, finding the urge to reach out and comfort him overwhelming. The second her hand came to rest on his shoulder however, he bolted away, hopping over what remained of the railing and landing on a branch that brushed against the balcony. “Jackson, stop. We can help you.”

He was halfway done with climbing down the tree when he looked up, feeling more than just a little bit guilty at his decision to run. He’d make it up to her, he thought, once all of this was through. Once the dust settled and it was safe, he’d find a way to visit her and Mulder and to patch things up. “I’m sorry,” he said, landing his feet on the ground with a subtle thud. He turned on his heel, heading for the tree line, thinking his legs couldn’t carry him fast enough.

Scully gripped the railing, staring in desperation at his retreating form. Reyes nudged her arm, causing her to jump.

“Go,” Reyes said, understanding written clearly across her features. She took several steps back and pointed in the direction of the open door. “I’ll go see if Mulder needs help. Go get your son, Dana.”

If they had more time, Scully thought she might have considered hugging the other woman. “Thank you,” she replied before looking at the tree limb with trepidation. Going back into the house and finding a door was more logical, but she also knew the place was likely teaming with people ready to shoot her if need be, and she knew that though the tree was dangerous, it was a safer option.

William was nearly halfway across the clearing when he heard her calling his name. He turned, startled by how fast Scully had caught up with him. He gulped and balled his hands up into fists, taking a step back as she quickly approached him. “You shouldn't follow me.”

Scully stood speechless as she tried processing the fact it was the first time in years she and William were in the same place looking at one another. She recalled the image of his pallid face peeking out of a body bag and shook her head to keep such thoughts at bay. “I know you're scared, and that's okay--”

“Scared?” he cried, widening his eyes as he pointed back to the house. “I killed someone. Maybe. She could still be alive, I don't know. But I’m the one who made that happen. You saw. You can't just pretend you didn't because you think you wanna know me.”

“William,” Scully replied, his name barely a wisp of air from her lips. She took a breath and smiled sadly. “Jackson. I know what I saw. What I saw was you protecting yourself. No one can fault you for that, least of all me,” she continued, recalling the lengths she and Mulder had gone to in years gone by under the guise of protecting each other. 

William darted his head from left to right, frowning in confusion like there had been a sudden shift in the air that he couldn't quite figure out. “How can you want to protect me so bad when you don't even know me?”

His words stung even if he was right, so Scully ducked her head and blinked back the tears that clouded her vision before looking back up at him. She pulled the snowglobe from her pocket, surprised in a way that it had remained intact. “I know it was you. At the hospital, and again at the gas station. I heard what you said. You want to get to know me, and I want to get to know you, too. And if you come with me, we can have that chance.”

He glanced at the snowglobe and then back at her, as if he was unsure of what to say. “How can you be sure you can protect me? Those people wanted me because of what I can do, wanted to use me like a weapon, and now--”

Before he could finish his sentence, they turned their heads at the sound of an engine revving, watching in stunned silence as a black SUV barreled through the clearing, stopping several feet away from them. Scully watched as the driver's side door opened, revealing a tall dark haired man she didn't recognize wielding a gun. It was the man who stepped out of the passenger side that made her blood run cold. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He stared up at the cloudy sky as he took one last long drag from his cigarette and tossing in under foot, blotting it out with the toe of his shoe. “I’m sure you're aware, Agent Scully, how special the boy is. We’ve come to take him somewhere he’ll be truly appreciated.”

Scully angled herself away from William, holding an arm out in hopes of keeping him back. She glared at Spender and slowly raised her gun from her side. “I need you to go back to the house. Get Mulder and Monica, and get the hell out of here,” she said, only to look behind her and see William hadn't moved. “Please, go.”

William squared his jaw, resolved to finish this once and for all. “I’m tired of people talking about me like I’m not around. Like I’m some kind of special freak who can do things no one should. I’m weird. I get it, but what I don't understand is why some old creep like you would want anything to do with someone like me.”

“Creep?” Spender asked, choking back a papery laugh. “That's no way to talk to your creator. If you come with me, I can help you understand how truly remarkable you are. What's inside of you--”

“Creator?” William replied, holding his palm to his forehead as he felt a headache growing stronger behind his eyes. “The guy inside, your friend maybe? He mentioned some crazy stuff about aliens, is that what you're talking about?”

“Not exactly,” Spender replied, lowering his hand and slowly gesturing to the man at his side. “Your parents--your birth parents, to be precise--wanted you, and I had the ability to bring their wish to fruition. But even I could not have predicted how amazing you'd become,” he said, snapping his fingers at the guard and watching as he ran in Scully's direction. The movement was distraction enough for him to sidle up to William, looping an arm around his waist. “No need to fight, but time is of the essence. We’ll need to go now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” William replied, kicking at the ground, grass breaking under his heels as Spender half dragged and half carried him towards the SUV. Pushing Erica off of the balcony had taken a lot out of him, so even though he tried hard to fight back, it did little to diminish the hold Spender had on him. “Let me go!”

“Hey!”

The four people standing and struggling in the clearing quickly turned, watching as two figures edged closer to them.

“Fox, it's a pity this family reunion isn't under better circumstances, isn't it?” Spender said before focusing on Reyes standing with her gun raised at them. “And Monica, I’m sure you understand you stabbing me in the back means our deal is effectively revoked? I’m disappointed, but I can't say I’m surprised.”

Mulder watched in horror as Spender pressed a gun to William’s side, only to hear a gasp of pain from Scully as he saw her faced with a similar situation. “Let them go, and you’ll walk free.”

“Come on, Fox. Do you really think me gullible enough to believe you'd actually hold up your end of that bargain?” Spender asked, a grin slowly spreading across his cracked lips.

Mulder raised his gun, first pointing it at the guard and then at Spender, all the while trying to keep the panic that threatened to boil over under wraps. 

“Mulder,” Scully whispered, pleading to catch his attention. “It's okay.”

“That's sweet, truly,” Spender said, pressing the gun harder against William’s side. “The fact you believe you have a choice. It's simple, Fox. You let me and your boy get out of here unscathed, and I let your precious Agent Scully live. But if you don't, my friend here will put a bullet through her as you watch. Think of it as an insurance policy,” he said, ducking his head and lowering his voice for full dramatic effect. “Now tell me, Agent Mulder. Do we have a deal?”


	6. Chapter 6

Mulder watched helplessly as Spender pulled William back towards the SUV. He heard a stifled sob coming from Scully's direction and leveled the gun, weighing his options. If he let the smoker take William he knew Scully would never forgive him, even if it meant letting her live, but he didn’t want his son to be taken by him either. 

“I promise you guys, I’m really not worth it,” William said, tired of all the fighting. Exhaustion seeped from his pores and he closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself in a place far away from those who wanted to poke and prod him, treating him differently just because of what he could do. “Just let me run off into the woods and stay there. It’d be better for everyone.”

“No, it won’t. Don't say that,” Scully pleaded, trying to ignore the panic that threatened to make her come unglued. 

“You'd really take a son away from the only parents he has left? Instead of working toward a peaceful resolution that leaves everyone satisfied?” Reyes asked. It was an attempt to draw attention to herself, to distract and perhaps stall Spender long enough for the others to try and formulate a plan. 

“I always did wonder, Monica. Why you agreed to help me so easily, to willingly side with someone you were aware had caused your friends so much pain,” Spender mused, tightening his grip on William when he tried to pull away. “You had the potential to become someone truly great, to have a seat at the table once everything comes tumbling down. But you've wasted that chance by betraying me like this. Pity,” he continued, shaking his head as he looked back at Mulder. “And you, Fox. You won't take the shot. You love your Agent Scully, and she loves the son the two of you share, thanks entirely to me. You won't risk either of their lives just to get a shot at me, will you? Get in the car, boy,” he said, letting go of William just long enough to open the passenger side door. He turned his head to look at the guard. “And you. Hold onto her until we’re out of sight. You know what to do from there.”

Mulder locked eyes with William over Spender's shoulder. He wished so badly that their lives had been different and none of this had happened. Still, something in the air snapped and William nodded, ducking his head just slightly. He hadn't heard his thoughts--hadn't experienced that in far more years than he cared to count--but somehow he still sensed what the younger man was thinking. 

“Now,” William said, his voice barely audible as he stepped back from Spender, kneeing him in the shin and digging an elbow into his back. 

A bullet burst through the small space around them, landing squarely in Spender's chest. The two that followed as he fell backwards into the grass probably weren't necessary, but as Mulder watched blood spill from the man’s lips, he knew they were worth it. 

Scully kicked backwards, digging her heel into the guard's shin, ignoring his cries of pain. She pried apart his arms, desperate to break free. It wasn't clear at first where the gunshot came from, but when she looked up, Monica's gun was raised in their direction and the guard lay at their feet. She watched as the woman lowered it, satisfied that things were safe, at least for now. 

“Should we...should we call somebody? We gotta call somebody, right?” William asked, hating the tremor that shook his voice. He watched as Spender’s chest rose and fell, staring as the man drew a rattled breath, and tore his focus away when the man's eyes glazed over. “Is he dead?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Mulder replied, considering pumping more bullets into him for good measure. He beckoned William closer, eager to get him as far away from Spender as he could. “Come on, we should leave before anyone else shows up.”

“We can't leave. There's kids inside. Like me,” William replied, hating how small he sounded. “Maybe. I don't know exactly, but those people were treating them like science experiments. We can't just leave them here to die.”

“He's right,” Scully replied. She recalled the children she’d seen as she hurried to find William. At the time she'd been so bent on finding him that she wasn't able to process what she'd seen, but now that she had, she knew there was no way they could leave them behind. “We’ll need an ambulance. Several, actually. We have to help them, Mulder.”

“I’ve already contacted A.D. Skinner. I called him when I was searching the house for you,” Reyes replied, looking to Mulder. “Help should be on the way from a local Bureau branch, and soon.”

“How'd he react to hearing a blast from the past?” Mulder asked.

Reyes shrugged. “Who do you think it is I’ve been reporting to all this time? The call didn't come as too great a surprise.”

As if on cue, sirens wailed as several agents drove onto the property. William tensed up, relaxing only as Mulder's hand settled against his shoulder. “What's gonna happen to me?”

Scully cleared her throat, unsure of what to do with her hands as she took a cautious step towards him. “You should go to the hospital. Make sure you're okay. We’ll keep you safe, Jackson. Please, let's go.”

“Just--” William started, squeezing his eyes shut when Scully grabbed his hand. It was impossible, that much he knew, but somehow he saw a chubby infant hand he knew was his own, clinging tightly to one of Scully's fingers. He would've been far too young to remember such a thing, and yet William understood it was a memory. The sirens grew louder and he could hear doors opening. He nodded his head, wanting so badly to believe she was telling the truth and that he’d be safe. “Yeah. Okay. We should get the hell out of here.”

Scully pulled away, reaching with her thumb to wipe away a smudge of dirt on his cheek before she could consider how her action would be perceived. “You're right,” she replied, smiling sadly when he didn't recoil from her. “Just stay close. We don't know who else might be nearby.”

Once at the hospital, both Scully and Mulder were hesitant to leave William’s side, but were assured that the proper tests would be run and supervised with the strictest protocol. The doctor didn't necessarily understand why they were so afraid, but had lowered her voice and said something along the lines of “I have a son, too. No matter how old he gets, he’s always my baby.”

Scully had nodded at that, fingers grasping the cross on her necklace and clinging to it as a source of comfort. She’d taken to wearing the quarter pendant along with it, and as she looked into the hospital room, she couldn’t help wondering what her mother would think about all of this.

“Anything?” Mulder asked, sidling up to Scully outside the hospital room. Through the small window in the door he watched as the doctor pulled a penlight from her lab coat, and he stifled a laugh when William restrained from rolling his eyes at apparently again being asked to follow it. Physically, he was proving to be relatively fine. He didn't want to think about the psychological scars that might remain. 

“Thank you,” she said, grateful for the styrofoam cup of coffee he handed her. He’d grown frustrated at the lack of an update and so she'd suggested he slip down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. He’d been reluctant to go, but had trusted she’d alert him at the sign of any changes. “And no, nothing yet. She’s in with him now,” she said, pointing towards the room. She closed her eyes and took a tentative sip from her coffee. The adrenaline that had fueled her from the moment she found out William had been taken was beginning to ebb away, and she stifled a yawn, knowing she had to remain alert in the event she was needed. “This is what I was afraid of, Mulder,” she whispered, inching closer to him and tucking into his side. It was a move born both out of the need for comfort and need for privacy. “I didn’t want him to grow up afraid, or be put into a position where people in power would manipulate him to do their bidding. He deserved so much more than that.”

“He still does,” Mulder replied, leaving little room for doubt. He cast a glance behind them as a nurse walked down the hall. He gingerly grabbed Scully’s arm and pulled them closer to the wall. “He’s our son, Dana,” he said, cupping his cheek with his palm and wiping away a tear with his thumb. “It’s not the most ideal of circumstances, but we’ve been given an opportunity to reconnect with him. To make things better.”

Scully nodded and shrugged her shoulders. As much as she wanted him to be right, she knew better than anyone that things weren’t always that simple. “He ran away before. What if he doesn’t want that? Doesn’t want to come home with us?”

Mulder breathed in deep, letting the air fill his lungs until he nearly felt like they could burst. He cast a glance into the room and watched as the doctor continued a battery of tests. William complied, speaking and moving as asked, but the exhaustion the younger man felt was evident. “All we can do is ask, Scully. We can offer him a place to stay. The things he’s been through would be a lot for anyone, and he’s still just a kid.”

“A teenager,” Scully mused. She nudged him in the side before tucking a finger through his belt loop, inching him closer. “Do you really feel like we’re ready to be parents to a teenager?”

There was fear in her voice, but there were notes of excitement and maybe even hope. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if William said no. “A kid with your keen sense of survival and my stunningly good looks? Come on, Sculls. We trained for this.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Scully teased, playfully slapping his chest. Mulder’s attention focused on the room behind them and she quickly turned, trying desperately to read the look on the doctor’s face. “How is he?”

The doctor held a tablet and nodded politely at a nurse as he passed before turning her attention back to Mulder and Scully. “As both of you are aware, he has been through quite an ordeal. That having been said, physically he appears to be fine.”

“He informed us he’d been injected with something. Did the bloodwork indicate anything regarding that?” Scully asked, trying to keep memories of an infant William faced with a similar circumstance at bay. She peeked into the room and watched as William fiddled with his hospital bracelet, and she was thankful that he was old enough now to tell them if something was wrong. 

The doctor shook her head. “If he was injected with something, it certainly wasn't harmful. You can bring him back in a few days for follow up if you’d like.”

“Maybe,” Scully replied. There was no way for the doctor to know they weren't even sure if they’d be in contact with William in a few days let alone later on in the current one. 

“Very well,” the doctor replied. If she sensed that anything was amiss, she certainly didn't show it. “I’m going to get started on the discharge paperwork. Someone should be with you all shortly to go over everything, but then you’ll be cleared to take your son home.”

Scully watched as the doctor walked away, feeling as if the walls around them were closing in. She stared down at the polished floor and blinked away hot tears. “Mulder, when we go in there, it’ll be the first time we’ve all been alone since--”

“I know,” Mulder replied, his voice shaking slightly as he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Aside from the time William had spent in a cold morgue pretending to be a corpse, the three of them hadn't exactly had much time together. “A few months ago, you said you felt like you were gonna fall off a cliff. Scully, I’m getting that feeling now.”

When he tried pulling his hand away, Scully held tight. She locked eyes with him and smiled sadly. 

“We should...probably get in there. Before he figures out we're standing out here talking about him. Unless you, you know,” Mulder said, tapping his temple with one finger.

“It doesn't work like that,” Scully replied, thinking again of how she didn't exactly understand how it worked. Reluctantly, she let go of Mulder's hand and pushed the door open.

“Hey,” William said, weakly waving at them as they entered. “The doc says I’m fine. I take it you guys are here to break me out?”

“We could do that, if it's what you want,” Mulder replied, thinking that his son's ability to crack jokes and make light during serious situations might have come from him. He hoped to get the chance to see what else they had in common. 

“Those kids,” William replied. He lowered his gaze and picked at the hospital bracelet again, wanting to take it off but thinking he probably wasn't supposed to do that just yet. “What's gonna happen to them?”

“They're being taken care of. Doctors are checking them out, making sure they're okay,” Scully answered. Her hand flexed at her side, aching to touch him again, as if doing so would be proof he was truly there. 

“Their parents,” William said, darting his tongue out to moisten his lips. “Those people told me stories. About how the kids’ parents gave them up. They wanted those people to take care of them, but they treated them like an experiment instead.”

“William,” Scully replied. “Sorry. Jackson,” she continued, afraid to look at him for fear of seeing proof that he didn't approve of her slip up. The name his adoptive parents gave him was like an unpolished stone as she rolled it around in her mind; jagged in some places, more flat and rounded out in others, but something she figured she could get used to it if given the chance. When she glanced up his eyes were on her, open and waiting, but at least a little cautious. She guessed that she earned that. Mulder pressed in tight next to her, ready to step in if need be, but she cleared her throat, knowing this was her story to tell. William hadn't been accusing her when he brought up the parents of the other kids, not exactly, but she knew that he had questions. “I didn't give--”

“I know,” William interrupted. He sighed, flopping back onto the pillows behind him. He clasped his hands on top of his stomach and shrugged. “I guess I don't really know, but I felt it.”

“Felt what?” Scully asked, cursing herself afterward. Their son was opening up to them, at least a little, and she didn't want to rush him. 

“This, I guess. Whatever weird brain thing that happens between us,” William replied, waving his hand between them. “I’d see you sometimes. Or feel you. I didn't always get why, and I didn't know who you were at first, but once I did…” he trailed off, surprising himself with how much he was opening up. His stomach fluttered and he rubbed at his forehead, thinking of his parents who were in a graveyard somewhere thanks in part to him, and he felt sick. 

“What's wrong? Do you need me to get the doctor?” Scully asked, rushing to press a cool hand to his forehead. 

William shrugged, not entirely hating the way she held her hand to his face for a second before taking it away. “I’m sorry for making you guys think I was dead.”

“You probably won't believe me, but you're not the only one in this room who's pulled that trick. Albeit under different but nonetheless dangerous circumstances,” Mulder replied. He hoped to keep the mood light, at least for a time. They could go more in depth on serious topics when they weren't in a public place with the risk of someone else interrupting them.

William sat up in the bed, crossing his legs as he pushed the blanket back. He picked at a hangnail on his thumb, aware they were watching him but not feeling the pressure that he had before. “I killed someone. Maybe several someones. You guys can't pretend that didn't happen.”

“No, we can't,” Scully replied, her voice laced with sympathy. She knew all too well the guilt he likely carried, and she wished not for the first time that she could hug him. “Official reports can suggest the railing was faulty, maybe it was already cracked--”

“Why are you protecting me?” William asked. He uncrossed his legs and shifted his position, letting them dangle over the side of the bed. If he reached out his arm, he was close enough to touch her. 

“Because you're…” Scully hesitated, shrugging as a sigh escaped her lips. It was hard, trying to mesh together the image she'd held of him for years, of an infant cradled safely in her arms, with the one sitting before her.

“Because it's the right thing to do,” Mulder said, stepping forward and resting one hand against the foot of the bed.

“How do you know that? How do you know they won't come after me again?” William replied. He shook his head and drew his bottom lip between his teeth, blinking back hot tears. “It's not safe.”

“But it can be,” Mulder insisted, wanting so badly to step in and reassure the younger man. “The man, Mr. Y or whatever the hell he insisted on being called? He's gone, too. I found him in an office downstairs. He fired a round, but he missed. I didn't,” he continued, glancing toward the closed door to make sure they weren't about to be interrupted. “You're safe, Jackson. I know you might not know us very well yet, but we can help you.”

William nodded, slowly taking the information in. He glanced up at the two of them standing guard and laughed softly to himself. “It bothers you, doesn't it? Calling me that.”

Mulder looked to Scully, waiting to see if she'd intervene. He recalled all too well the moment all those years before when she'd happily told him she'd chosen to name their son William. Up until a few months before, and even longer if he was being honest, that's the only name he knew him as. Still, he wanted his son to be comfortable, no matter what he was called. “It's your name, isn't it? It's what we should call you.”

William swung his legs back and forth, kicking at the bed, realizing he probably needed to answer him. Jackson had been the name his parents gave him, some family name of an uncle he’d never even met, and it only happened after they needed to move and keep him safe. Protecting him at the time by changing his name seemed like a good option. Still, things were different now, and no change of name guaranteed safety. Hearing Jackson from Mulder and Dana was strange, like a puzzle piece that didn’t exactly fit, although he wasn’t sure if William did either. “Is it okay if I don’t know the answer to that question yet?”

Yet. A small but unbelievably big word. Scully nodded, feeling more hopeful than she had in a long time. “Of course.”

“So what happens now? To me?” William asked. He could fend for himself, get a job if he had to, but he suspected they had other plans. 

“You can come home with us. If you want, that is,” Mulder replied, not missing the way his son’s eyes lit up. Life on the run couldn’t have been easy on him. “We’ve got a room you can sleep in, a big screen in the living room, and a dog that is particularly fond of chewing on my shoes.”

“My mom was allergic to dogs, so we never got to have one,” William replied. “What’s his name?”

“Dagoo,” Scully replied. She cleared her throat and leveled her gaze at him. “So, what do you think? We don’t want to push you, but you’re always welcome.”

He could say no. He could decline now, rip the band aid off, and wish them all the best in the future. But sitting so close to the parents he’d spent his whole life wondering about reminded him of all the questions he had, all the things he wanted to know, and he knew he couldn’t turn down their offer. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“You hear that, Scully? Not too bad,” Mulder replied.

“If you guys have a decent shower, you’ll be better than the last motel I stayed at,” William said, hoping they’d take it as the joke it was intended to be.

“Aha, so it’s you then,” Mulder replied, making a show of smelling his own shirt sleeve, only to have Scully nudge him in the side. “What?”

“It’s okay,” William replied. The smile on his face was genuine for the first time in a long while. It wasn’t as if all of the details were ironed out, but they were getting there. It was a start. He pushed himself off the bed and then clapped his hands together with a sense of finality. He pointed to the door and raised an eyebrow, ready to get everything going. “You guys gonna lead the way?”


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you sure leaving now is the best option?” Scully asked before taking a long sip from the coffee mug she cradled between her hands. She looked across the table at Reyes who shrugged, and though a lot of years had gone by since she knew her well, the exhaustion in her eyes was evident. “You could stay in town a few more days, rest up--”

“I finished my debriefing, Dana. I’ve been interviewed, I’ve handed over all the evidence I have, and I’ve done everything they needed me to do,” Reyes replied, shrugging as she brought her own mug to her lips. She broke their gaze and stared about the kitchen, taking in the somewhat cluttered but altogether warm ambiance of it all. “You two have a nice home here. I’m sure your son is fitting in well, hmm?”

Scully bristled a little at the change in topic, but the thought of William getting comfortable in their home was something she wanted more than anything else. “We’ll see,” she replied, feeling hopeful. “It’s only been a week, so everyone is still adjusting. A part of me still expects to wake up one morning and find out it’s all been a dream.”

“It’s not. This is what you wanted back then, and now you finally have your chance. I’m sorry it’s taken this long,” Reyes replied, reaching across the tabletop to rest her hand against Scully’s. Relief flooded through her when the other woman didn’t pull away, and she couldn’t resist the stubborn belief that they’d one day be able to refer to each other as friend again.

“Speaking of chances, you didn’t really answer my question,” Scully replied, quirking one eyebrow. “Is leaving town now what you really want to do? Where will you go?”

“Away,” Reyes replied, laughing softly. “Truthfully, I’m tired. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been able to take a vacation and just go somewhere nice and warm.”

Scully nodded in understanding, knowing all too well her desire to get a break. They’d talked some in the days after rescuing William, about what her life had been like under Spender’s thumb and the things she’d been forced to do in an effort to keep her cover. She shuddered at the thought of being so close to such a man for an extended period of time, but that thought was soon replaced by the reminder that Mulder had loaded him with lead and sent him out of this life for good. The man had survived far longer than he should have, but Scully was glad they were now free of his schemes. “Georgia is warm,” she mused, a smile playing on her lips as she drew her coffee to her mouth once more. “Beaches, peach trees, people who’d probably like to see--”

“Dana, I know what you’re implying,” Reyes replied, a sense of warning laced through her voice. “He’s living his life. Safe, happy. I can’t intrude on that by digging up ancient history.”

“It’s not that ancient,” Scully replied, even if it wasn’t entirely true. The ache in her that had existed the day they fought to save William had finally ebbed away, but it still served as a reminder that they weren’t as young as they used to be. Still, if she and Mulder were getting answers to questions they had for so long, she figured Reyes deserved some, too. “You never know unless you try.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Reyes replied. She downed the rest of her coffee and pushed her chair back, preparing herself to leave.

“I thought I heard voices down here,” Mulder mused, resting against the door jamb. He cocked his head at Reyes. “Heading out?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Reyes replied, walking to place her mug in the sink. She turned to face them both and crossed her arms, thinking briefly of all the shared history standing in that room. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, or when I’ll return. But since I’ve handed over everything I know, I’ve also included my resignation.”

“You’re quitting?” Scully asked, although it wasn’t entirely a surprise.

Reyes nodded, smiling sadly. “Maybe I’ll freelance at some point, I don’t know. But with Spender gone, all plans of any big scale decimation? It’s effectively come screeching to a halt. For the first time in a very long time, I feel…”

“Free?” Scully asked, watching as the other woman struggled to find the words. She looked towards the ceiling upon hearing the sound of water running from upstairs and she let out a shaky breath. If Reyes were free, that suggested they were as well, which in turn meant William would be, too.

Mulder crossed the room to the coffee maker but turned to look at Reyes as he pulled a mug from the cabinet. He felt a little like he was intruding on a quiet moment between friends, but he also knew someone needed to say it. Reyes might have gone about things in a different way than he or Scully would have, but their son was safe in large part due to her, so she needed to know she was welcome. “Next time you’re in town, Monica? Stop by. Just, you know, maybe without the threat of impending doom. A call would be nice.”

Reyes laughed as she pushed herself away from the counter and clapped her hands together. “I will. Thank you, both of you. I was afraid when I approached you that it might have gone a lot differently. I’m glad it didn’t,” she said, pausing as she heard the sound of footsteps upstairs. “How’s he doing?”

“It’s been interesting, to say the least. An adjustment for everybody,” Scully replied, not knowing how else to phrase it. “But one we’re more than willing to make.”

Reyes agreed before politely making her goodbyes and heading out the door, with another promise that she’d keep in touch. She wasn’t gone long when they heard William padding down the stairs. “Hey, mutt, tell me how I’m s’posed to let you out, when you’re standing right in my way?”

Scully smiled, hiding it behind her mug as he entered. “Come on, Dagoo,” she called, ushering him away from where he circled William’s feet. “There’s coffee if you want some.”

William nodded, carding a hand through his hair, not bothering to stifle a yawn as he shuffled over to the coffee pot. He turned to Mulder who was standing close by, gesturing with the almost empty carafe. “Cool if I take the last of it?”

“That’s fine, there’s always more,” Mulder replied. Their conversations with him in the preceding days had been fairly short and careful, and when they went further into detail, it still seemed as if they were dancing around some inevitable ledge he was scared they’d all fall off of. He watched as William poured the last of the coffee into a chipped FBI mug, and he found himself eager to push things a little deeper. “Any plans for today?”

William stared at him, the empty carafe hanging precariously in one hand. “Not really. I thought maybe I could go for a run, bring the dog with me. If that’s okay?”

“Sure, yeah,” Mulder agreed.

“Some air would be good,” Scully said. William had been helpful, taking Dagoo out when needed, even cleaning up after dinner a few times. They were still so cautious, afraid that one wrong move could push him too far and make him want to leave. Still, she nodded at Mulder and cleared her throat, knowing what he was about to suggest. “When you get back, there’s something we’d like to show you. To give you, actually.”

“What?” William asked, his curiosity piqued.

“There’s a few boxes of stuff from your house. We were able to grab them once they were processed. There’s things like pictures and books, even some clothes. We thought maybe you’d like to have them. Go through them, if you want,” Scully replied. She watched as he nodded, absorbing the information. His jaw was tight and he turned to grab cream for his coffee before she could know for sure, but she thought she saw what might have been tears in his eyes.

“Oh,” William replied, lowering his gaze to the ground. It was something he’d thought about, the plush house in a well off neighborhood, and he was struck by the juxtaposition to Mulder and Scully’s place. Their house was all soft furnishings and cluttered spaces. It was forensic science journals shelved right next to books on the paranormal. He thought for a second about what his mother would say if she saw this place, how she’d probably mutter about how it could all use a good dusting, but when he looked back at them, the thought occurred that he didn’t much mind it at all. It was different, but if there was anything that he’d learned recently, it was that different wasn’t always a bad thing. He realized they were waiting on a response, so he stalled by taking a slow gulp of his coffee. “Sure, that sounds great. I’m gonna take this upstairs and then grab my shoes for the run. Is that cool?”

Scully studied his face, fearing maybe she’d stepped over some invisible barrier. He seemed fine, but the anxiety that pooled within made her stomach flutter. “Of course. It’s supposed to rain later, so it’s probably good that you’re going now,” she said, trailing off as he turned to go upstairs.

“A week with us, and he’s already walking away while we’re talking. See, Scully? I told you we’d do great,” Mulder joked, pulling her to his chest and planting a kiss atop her head. “That stuff is his. You did the right thing by suggesting he take a look at it.”

Scully nodded, momentarily burrowing herself into his embrace. They rocked back and forth in silence for a few seconds before she pulled away just enough to look at him. “I just want him to know that he’s welcome, but that we’re not….”

Mulder nodded, knowing where she was headed. “We’re not trying to replace them. I think he gets that, Scully, but I also think we have to give it time.”

“You’re probably right,” Scully replied, tilting her head to the side as she surveyed him. “How can you be so calm right now?”

“Oh, I’m not,” Mulder replied as he pushed her hair back from her face. “I keep thinking about how the last time I saw him, he was a baby. He could fit on one arm, with his little head resting in my palm. And now, you know, he’s an adult,” he continued, quickly rushing to correct himself when he saw her warning look. “Well, almost an adult. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she replied, running a hand over his chest. “For not being calm about all this, I feel like you’re doing a better job at hiding it than me.”

“Well, it helps that I have you. And seeing you with him? It sounds crazy, but it makes all the stuff we went through worth it,” he said, craning his neck down just far enough to kiss her lips, humming softly to himself as he pulled away. “You taste like coffee.”

Scully laughed as she backed away, pointing upward toward the ceiling. “We have a son who could come into the room at any minute. I don’t want to jar our admittedly fragile relationship by having him walk in on us…” she said, pausing as she waved a hand between them. Before she could continue, William walked into the room, whistling for Dagoo who quickly scurried out from under the table.

William clipped a leash onto Dagoo’s collar and stooped to retie one of his shoes. When he looked up and saw that they were watching him, he startled back a little. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mulder replied, holding up his mug in greeting. “Enjoy your run.”

The day went by with little fanfare. When William returned from his run, they did as asked and showed him the way into the basement, where the boxes of his belongings were held. Scully busied herself with cleaning while Mulder caught up some e-mails, but every time a noise was heard from downstairs, they’d both turn their heads, waiting to see William reemerge. They’d agreed on giving him space and letting him sort through everything on his own, but they still wanted to be close by, for his sake just as much as their own.

Dinner was a joint affair with all three of them gathered around the table. They ate in relative silence, save for a few comments William made about things he’d found in the boxes.

“There was a book down there I’d been reading before…” he said, trailing off as he tucked a few peas under his mashed potatoes. He wasn’t quite sure of how to refer to his time prior to living with them. “I grabbed it and I think I’m gonna go upstairs and read after I’m done eating.”

“Is it that book by the pickup artist? I gotta tell you, I don’t think--” Mulder replied, stopping when Scully rested an arm against his.

“Mulder,” she said, casually pulling her hand away and wiping at her mouth with a napkin. “Of course it’s okay. We want you to be comfortable here.”

William shifted his gaze between them, as if he were sizing them up and trying to assess if what she was saying was true. “Okay. It wasn’t that book, by the way,” he replied, taking his plate to the sink. He laughed at the way Dagoo circled his feet as he moved to a nearby cabinet to pull out a box of treats, tossing one to the dog before he thought twice about it. “I’m just gonna--” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the other room as he backed out of the doorway.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The kitchen was cleaned and Mulder and Scully settled onto the couch to watch tv, although it didn’t take long before Mulder started nodding off, and so Scully suggested that he head up to bed. While he joked about her joining him, she declined, saying she’d be up later. She finished the movie that had been playing and then switched it off, relishing in the silence of reading as she curled into the couch. For a while, the only sound she heard came when she flipped each page, but after a while, she heard footsteps on the stairs and she paused to see the figure come down.

“Oh,” William said, clutching the end of the bannister. He waved shly at her as she peered at him from the couch. “I didn’t realize anybody was still up.”

She took in the fact he was still dressed, rather than switching his t-shirt and jeans for pajamas, and her pulse begin to drum in her ears. She couldn’t see his feet, but it was then that she began to wonder if he was wearing any shoes.

“I’m just grabbing a water,” he said, ducking into the kitchen. When he came back with the water he hesitated for the briefest of seconds, looking up the stairway before heading to the couch instead. He stood with the unopened water bottle in hand, tossing it from one hand to the other as he shifted his feet. “You guys...gotta stop doing that, you know,”

“Doing what?” Scully asked, securing her place with a bookmark and setting the novel aside. Whatever he was about to say, she knew it was far more important. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s just it--nothing’s wrong. I mean, sure, things are wrong. And what happened last week was messed up. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. But you guys…” he paused, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair as he bit his bottom lip. “You gotta stop looking at me like I’m some ghost. Like you’re...I dunno, afraid to talk to me or something. Like just now, when I came down here for a drink? You looked at me like you were afraid I wasn’t real, or that maybe I was gonna disappear. I’m not. I’m right here.”

Briefly, Scully wished Mulder were still awake for this conversation, but she suspected as well as hoped it was the first of many like it, and so selfishly she almost didn’t mind to be the bearer of this one. The fact William was there had obviously not gone unnoticed, but it was the first time he’d actually expressed an interest in staying. “I didn’t realize we were looking at you like that,” she replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. Would she ever get used to the idea of sitting in such close proximity to her son? Watching as he did something so simple as prop a foot up on the coffee table, she couldn’t help the overwhelming urge to hope so. “But since you are here, I have to ask: how are you doing? And don’t say fine, because I know that’s not true.”

He quirked one side of his mouth into a smile before his face returned to a more somber expression. “Honestly? I don’t know. A little weird, I guess. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she replied.

He tucked the leg not propped on the table under himself and folded his hands in his lap, taking a deep breath as he tried composing what he had to say. Since he’d come to stay at their house the headaches had essentially ceased, but a part of him still feared what might happen if they returned. “I know you probably can’t give all the details, or maybe you won’t because you think it’s too dangerous, but what happened last week with you guys rescuing me...people died. Has stuff like that ever happened before?”

“Strictly speaking, not exactly the same thing, no. But if you’re asking whether or not Mulder and I have been in dangerous situations like that where people have gotten hurt? Unfortunately, yes,” she replied.

“How do you…” he stopped, suddenly finding himself feeling foolish. He’d been putting on a front all week and was now effectively blowing it to shreds. “Nevermind, it’s kinda stupid.”

“How do we cope with it, do you mean?” Scully asked, lowering her head in an attempt to get him to return her gaze. He nodded silently and it took everything in her not break for him. He needed her to be strong, and she was more than willing to do that. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugged, glancing up at the ceiling before looking back at her. “I just wanna be able to sleep without seeing his face. Without dreaming that I’m in that room. Without remembering how I hurt--”

“You did what you did to protect yourself. Like we told you before, you’re not at fault for that, okay?” she replied, inching closer as she tried to reassure him. “Earlier when we showed you those boxes, did we upset you? I didn’t want to push anything, or to make you feel uncomfortable at all. I just--”

“No, you didn’t,” William replied, this time taking his turn at reassuring her. “Thank you.”

A second ticked by. Five, ten. Scully leaned down to scoop Dagoo up from where he sat at their feet, blinking back unshed tears before looking back at William. “They’re things that belong to you. You should have them.”

“There are things in there I never thought I’d see again. Certain books and pictures, even stupid little Christmas decorations I made growing up. Snow globes. You know, minus the one you stole,” he replied, leaning over just so and bumping her shoulder with his own. “You’re a federal agent. I can’t believe you stole something from a crime scene. But I mean, Mulder told me you also stole this dog here too, so I guess I know where I got my talent from.”

“I did not just hear that,” Scully replied, holding out her hands in mock protest. “Promise me that you’re not going to make a habit of that particular...talent, as you put it, while you’re here? I didn’t steal Dagoo, by the way.”

William laughed as he felt his eyelids growing heavy, Maybe he’d get some sleep tonight after all. “Right,” he answered. “So, uh,” he said, clearing his throat as he sat up a little straighter. “Those boxes are cool. And I’m glad. But it got me thinking about how before a certain point, I don’t really have anything. Pictures, I mean. And I know it was dangerous back then or whatever, but you guys took pictures, right?”

“We did,” she said. Those particular boxes had once been shoved farther back in the basement, shrouded in dust and caked in cobwebs, ever present but still out of their sight. When the visions had started what now felt like eons ago, she’d taken some out, sorting through pictures and the meager assortment of items she’d kept from their time with one another. She needed a reminder of what she was fighting for, but now he was sitting right beside her. “I could go get some if you wanted?”

William nodded just as a yawn took over. As anxious as he might have been coming downstairs, that feeling was slowly dissipating. Things weren’t perfect, but they were trying, so he knew that counted for something. Time would tell if the evils of the outside world had truly been eliminated, and he hoped that they had been, although he knew that either way he wouldn’t face whatever came next alone. They may not have been the parents who raised him, but they were still his mother and father, a fact he could no longer ignore. “Is it cool if we do that tomorrow? Maybe in the morning? I think I’m gonna go catch some sleep.”

“Okay,” Scully replied, thinking it wouldn’t be long until she would be doing the same thing. “Good night,” she called as he reached the stairs.

“Night,” he replied. He went upstairs to a room he was quickly growing accustomed to thinking of as his own, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t dream.


End file.
